


Lontano

by cavaleira



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/F, Future Fic, In Public, M/M, Murder Husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 04:26:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4990156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cavaleira/pseuds/cavaleira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years later, Alana sees two familiar faces that she hoped to never see again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lontano

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hannahrhen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahrhen/gifts).



> This is for hannahrhen, who blessed/cursed me with a plot bunny about what might happen if Alana happened to unexpectedly spot the murder husbands sometime in the future.

Alana Bloom strolls through the San Lorenzo market in Florence, aimlessly wandering through the myriad of stalls full of fine leather and venetian masks, handmade journals and knitted scarves. A gentle breeze ruffles through her hair and the sun on her face makes her smile. It’s Saturday afternoon and the market is alive with activity, but Alana takes it in stride. She simply basks in the sights and sounds, her ears picking up on the Italian words she understands while the rest wash over her like music.

Alana, Margot, and Ethan have been in the city since Monday, enjoying a little family getaway during the last week of Ethan’s Easter break. London was dreary when they left, still in the throes of a cold snap. Florence welcomed them with a cleansing rain followed by clear days full of springtime greenery and warm, golden light.

It’s been a good holiday, a week of strolling down the cobblestone streets surrounded by charming, old world architecture and the sound of street musicians, their guitars and accordions reverberating through the piazzas. A week of outdoor picnics, eating delicious meals while Alana did her best to keep Ethan’s gelato intake—and quite honestly her own—under control.

She can hardly believe how big he’s gotten. Ethan has grown into a bright, curious boy and she’s enjoyed watching him experience the city, the fun he had at the Children’s Museum in Palazzo Vecchio and his fascination with the wooden figures at the Bartolucci Toy Shop.

Ethan and Margot are somewhere deeper into the market, though Alana’s not quite sure where. It’s their last day in Florence and Ethan has his heart set on finding the coolest souvenir, and he’s enlisted Margot’s help with his search. Alana doesn’t mind. It’s easier for Margot to keep up with him when he’s in a more active mood anyway. Even though Alana doesn’t use a cane anymore, her old injury does bother her from time to time. She’ll have to track them down soon if they don’t find her first, but for now she’s happy to meander. She breathes in the air and is filled with a sense of contentment that makes her smile.

It's been five years since they fled the US and Alana has slowly learned to live her life without looking over her shoulder every minute.

No one knows what happened to Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham. The official story is that they drowned in the ocean after killing Dolarhyde. No bodies were ever recovered, the trail went cold, and the world moved on.

Well, except for Jack Crawford. His semi-retirement from the FBI has only freed up more time for him to continue his own never-ending Chesapeake Ripper investigation. Alana has told him many times that nothing good will come of it, but he won’t hear her. It’s the cold case he refuses to let go of (although Jack probably lies to himself and believes it’s the case that won’t let go of _him_ ).

They’ve kept in touch and it’s nice to hear from him and see him during his occasional visits. After all, they are—as Margot sometimes jokes when she's in a dark mood—the remaining inner circle members of the "I survived Hannibal Lecter" club.

Jack looked for Bedelia du Maurier to try and pump her for information a few years ago, but she’d already disappeared with no trace. He’s always suspected foul play, but Alana thinks the woman just had the good sense to flee like Alana and her family had. Bedelia’s fate is not a question Alana feels any need to have answered. She refuses to let the past haunt her.

Alana continues walking until she comes across a stall with a beautiful assortment of scarves and leather handbags and steps inside. Margot’s birthday is coming up soon. If Alana is quick, she might be able to find the perfect present and buy it while Ethan has Margot distracted.

Alana gives a quick glance down the way to consider where she might go to next if she doesn’t find anything here, and what she sees makes the hairs on her neck stand up.

It’s them.

She doesn’t want to believe it, but it is absolutely, unmistakably them. Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter are standing less than 30 feet away from her, looking at leather jackets.

Alana shivers and then goes utterly still, rooted in place and frozen like prey. But while she’s painfully aware of their presence, through some strange mercy, they haven’t noticed her and all she wants is to keep it that way.

She can see them in profile, in their casual yet fitted clothing: Will is in dark blue jeans and a black dress shirt, Hannibal in black slacks and an off-white sport coat, and both of them wearing fine leather shoes. Will's hair is shorter, his curls less wild. Hannibal’s hair has a bit more grey in it, and his eyes crinkle a bit more around the corners when he smiles at Will, as he’s doing now. He’s wearing a stylish pair of black-rimmed glasses that he probably doesn't need and she takes a little pleasure in the thought, knowing he’d find a comparison to Clark Kent to be terribly gauche. Will holds the leash of a brown, floppy-eared dog who sits at his feet wagging its tail.

They look happy. They look _normal_ but then again, Hannibal was always good at pretending to be a person. Still, it’s odd to see them looking so unremarkable when she knows what brutality they’re capable of.

But then again, Alana can’t pretend it didn’t feel good when she and Margot held Mason’s head underwater. Alana is no stranger to the intimacy of shared violence. While she and Margot aren’t monsters, they’re not saints either. No one who gets close to Hannibal Lecter escapes unscathed, if they escape at all. They were all changed by their association with him, and none so much as Will.

Hannibal changed too, in his way. He certainly found ways to have his fun at the BSHCI, but being imprisoned is still being imprisoned. He’d waited 3 years there for Will to come back to him. Alana sincerely doubts that there’s anyone else on earth he’d willingly give up even a fraction of his freedom for.

Alana continues to peruse the stall and make stilted small talk with the owner, all while keeping a close eye on Will and Hannibal. She can see the glint of a gold ring when Hannibal presses his left hand to the small of Will’s back. Her throat goes tight with panic because she’s afraid it means he’ll steer Will towards another stall in her direction. She relaxes a little when Hannibal’s hand slides back down to his side; it was just a brief touch, a little moment of affection.

There’s an easy and palpable fondness between them. They look like two people in love, two people who have finally experienced the heady rush of being _seen._

Underneath her fear and unease, Alana feels the smallest pang of regret. She wishes she could be happy for them for Will’s sake, but of all the creatures on earth, Hannibal Lecter is the least deserving of happiness.

It would be easy to reach into her bag, pull out her phone and call the police. She could split them apart, try to save Will one last time, and deprive Hannibal of his deepest desire in one fell swoop. Her fingers itch for it, to hold that power in the palm of her hand.

It isn’t worth it. She can’t, she _won’t_ risk drawing Hannibal’s attention to her family to try and help a man who doesn’t want to be saved.

They say love is blind, but that’s never been the point with Will and Hannibal. Will knows what Hannibal is better than anyone. He saw the horrible truth that Alana herself didn’t want to believe. Will sees Hannibal fully and completely; whatever this is between them now, Will went into it with his eyes wide open.

For Hannibal’s part, he could see the dark potential in Will from the start and devoted years to courting it, going to terrible lengths to bring it out and expose it to the light of day. Alana doesn’t blame Will for being drawn in; they were all seduced by Hannibal in one way or another. Alana can’t pretend she doesn’t see the appeal in what Hannibal was offering Will. Selling your soul might seem worth it to find someone who sees you at your absolute worst and finds you beautiful not in spite of it, but because of it.

She didn't think Hannibal was capable of love and she's still not convinced, but maybe that doesn't matter to either of them. Whatever Hannibal feels for Will is all-encompassing and it has changed him, stretching his capacity for emotion beyond what any of them thought possible.

Alana’s lips involuntarily curve up into a humorless smile. If she weren't so on edge she'd also roll her eyes at herself now, because that line of thought is exactly the kind of pretentious bullshit Hannibal would adore.

Alana inspects a leather purse, looking inside and counting the pockets in an attempt to distract herself from the reality of her situation.

 _Be invisible,_ _be unremarkable_ , she chants over and over again in her head, as if the words can form a shroud to keep her safe.

She can’t help but wonder what their lives are like now, and what’s beneath the surface of this pretty picture of domestic life. It’s surprisingly easy to imagine: a private villa outside of the city and a pack of stray dogs waiting there because Hannibal insisted that Will couldn’t bring all of them to the market. Will catching fish to bring home and Hannibal cooking elaborate dinners every night. Will tinkering out in the yard while Hannibal draws, plays the harpsichord, and plots murder, which he obviously considers to be his truest art form.

Is it possible that Will has held on to some vestige of his morality and gotten Hannibal to stop killing? Are they “murder husbands” like Freddie Lounds once said, or have they found being together more satisfying than any murder could ever be?

She saw pictures of Dolarhyde’s body. She saw what Will and Hannibal are capable of together and the idea that they’re partners in crime now is not so far-fetched. There have been no Chesapeake Ripper murders, but that doesn’t mean anything. It would be easy for them to fly under the radar, especially if Hannibal has changed his MO now that he finally has Will by his side.

But Alana doesn’t have the luxury to explore these questions. No matter what, she can’t let them see her. She has to stay calm, figure out where Ethan and Margot are, blend in with the crowd, and get the hell out of here. As long as her family is safe, Alana is willing to let Will and Hannibal go free, future victims be damned. She sometimes wonders what kind of person that makes her, but she doesn’t lose sleep over it anymore.

She spent years as collateral damage in Will and Hannibal’s twisted courtship and she refuses to let Ethan and Margot become unwilling players in the latest act of their grand romance.

Alana takes a deep breath and continues to act casual, trying to pretend she’s just an ordinary tourist and not a woman standing dangerously close to a psychopath who always keeps his promises. She reaches out to inspect a red silk scarf, feeling grounded by the sensation of soft fabric against her fingers while she watches Will and Hannibal out of the corner of her eye. Hannibal is fully engrossed in his conversation with the vendor and Will is preoccupied with petting the dog, so Alana decides that now is the time to make her move and slip away.

But Will looks up. He looks up and he _sees_ her.

The shock of recognition passes between them and Alana can barely breathe, heart clenching as if it might actually beat out of her chest. She feels as paralyzed as she did lying helplessly in the rain after Abigail Hobbs pushed her out of a window. She doesn't know who or what Will has become over the years. All she knows is that in this moment, Will Graham holds her life--her _family's_ lives—in his hands.

Will is a study in contradictions. He’s always had a bit of a babyface, slightly angelic though he covered it well with glasses, a scruffy beard, and a scowl. He’s not trying to hide it anymore. With his hair cut shorter and face clean-shaven, he looks handsome, and more well-groomed than she’s ever seen him. Despite this, his face is marred by a harsh pink scar across his right cheek that makes him look a little dangerous, possibly yet another “gift” from Hannibal.

HIs skin has a healthy tan, and there’s a spark of life within him, an ease in his posture that was never there before. But there’s also something distant and cruel in his eyes, like a switch waiting to be flipped, a dark creature coiled deep inside him that he’s no longer afraid to let roam free. It’s the kind of thing you wouldn’t notice in passing, but Alana is looking closely. He’s _letting_ her look closely. It’s strange to see someone look so vibrant and so cold all at once.

In a way, he reminds her of Hannibal. The fact that she can’t tell if this is the result of Hannibal’s efforts to transform him, or if this is who he always was underneath is unsettling. Alana has long since accepted that she didn’t really know Hannibal, but she likes to think she knew Will. She wants to believe that he’s still in there somewhere but all she sees is a stranger, light years away from the man she used to know.

The moment seems endless, but Alana forces herself to stand tall under his unnerving stare. She’s never felt the full weight of his empathy on her before and it’s terrifying to know that this stranger, this _predator_ can see down to the core of her.

The intensity bleeds away and finally, Will gives a barely perceptible nod and his lips quirk up in a half smile. The gesture itself is more Hannibal, but there’s a bittersweet warmth in his eyes that’s all Will. He is changed, but not completely lost.

Will turns to face Hannibal, positioning his body in such a way to hide Alana from Hannibal's line of sight. He leans in and speaks to Hannibal before gesturing at something in the distance, beyond the exit of the market. Hannibal nods and Will puts a hand on his shoulder and guides him away, the dog happily trailing behind them.

“Sta bene?” the stall owner asks her, a look of concern on his face.

Pure relief runs through her veins and Alana manages to smile and nod. “Sí, sto bene,” Alana says, slightly surprised by how much she means it. She’ll be even better once she finds her wife and son and they make their escape.

Alana ignores the stall owner trying to convince her to buy something and walks away, in the opposite direction of Will and Hannibal. She moves briskly, scanning the crowd for any sign of Ethan and Margot.

Her professional curiosity about Will never really went away, and it leaves Alana wondering what was going through his head the moment they locked eyes. Why just let her go? Was it a last act of kindness for an old friend, or something more?

Whatever happiness Will has found with Hannibal has been hard won and they both have the physical and emotional scars to prove it. Maybe crossing paths with Alana is a complication Will doesn't need in a relationship that's already complicated enough.

Maybe she and Will are not so different. They both understand the fragility of life and love, how sometimes you have to fight dirty and slip down into dark places to build the life you want. And they both know how it feels to stare at yourself in the mirror and come to terms with all the lies you’re willing to tell and the lines you’re willing to cross to hold onto it.

Eight years ago, Alana thought she could fall in love with him; today, she's never been happier to watch him go. She hopes she never sees him again.

Alana continues searching, a sense of panic rising a little more with every moment she doesn’t see her family. Her fingers are shaking as she reaches for her phone to call Margot, but she finally spots them coming towards her. She breathes a sigh of relief as she lets the phone slide back into her purse.

“Mom! Mom, look at my kite!” Ethan says as he races toward her.

“Wow, that's great,” Alana says as she inspects the kite, running her fingers over the red and blue nylon. “We’ll have to take it to the park with us when we get home.” Alana smiles. It feels amazing to think about something so simple and mundane.

Margot reaches out to brush back a stray lock of Alana’s hair and frowns when she feels how shaky Alana is, her body still racked with minute little shivers she’s unable to stop.

“Are you okay?” Margot asks, and the tone of her voice makes Ethan look slightly worried too.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” Alana reassures them as she reaches down to tousle Ethan’s hair. “I’m just not feeling well right now. Maybe it was something I ate.” As soon as she says the words, she really _does_ feel sick to her stomach. She can’t help but think about all those years of hidden cannibalism jokes she was too blind to understand.

“I’ll feel a lot better when we’re back home and I can get some rest. Let’s head back to the hotel and pack up. I’ll make a few calls and arrange for the private jet to take us home tonight.”

“Alana—” Margot starts, but Alana shakes her head. She'll tell her later on the jet, when Ethan is asleep.

“But I like it here! Can we come back soon?" Ethan asks.

Alana swallows hard. "No. No, I don't think so."

Ethan's face falls. Alana hates seeing her son upset, but she would much rather see his disappointed face than his lifeless one.

No matter what darkness there is in Will, he will always be Hannibal's better half. Alana is well aware of how lucky she is that he's the one who saw her. In her experience, luck is almost always on Hannibal's side, chaos and uncertainty are mere tools for manipulation that bend to his will.

She’d thought Florence was safe. She’d told herself that if Hannibal was still out there somewhere, not even _he_ would have the nerve to come back to Florence after the way things went to hell the last time.

It was a foolish thought, Alana sees that now. In some ways, she’s just as guilty of lying to herself as Jack is. She’s underestimated Hannibal too many times before and can't afford to make that mistake again.

This is all just another joke to him. He is _Il Mostro_ , happy, free, and deliciously amused as he hides in plain sight and inhabits his old crime scenes. She doesn’t want to know if Will is in on the joke, too. Some questions are better left unanswered.

Ethan’s eyes light up again as Margot distracts him, telling him about all the other wonderful places in the world they’ll go, and the things that they’ll see and do there.

For Alana, memories of this place will always be tinged by fear, a deep, primal fear that will cling to her no matter how hard she tries not to dwell on it. But she can take comfort in the fact that for Ethan, Florence will be nothing but a fond, distant memory.

"Come on, let's go home," Alana says as she takes Ethan's hand and slips an arm around Margot's waist. And just like Will, Alana turns her back on the past and walks out into the springtime.

 


End file.
